Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Return Home

Sometimes I need to check out.  Like a traveler turning in keys to the hotel room that doesn't sound, smell, or look like home, I need time to leave the words, drive away from the blog, and be quiet.  I need time to be with people.  Not so I can write stories about them, but so I can experience real life. 

We stop on the side of the road after the near miss with the buck and doe.  Brakes squeal, our hearts pound.  We are an hour from home after an extensive road trip.  I ask, "Is your heart pounding?"  He tells me,"I've never had to brake so hard to miss a deer."  Baby is in the back seat sleeping, finally.  He sleeps through the near-miss.  Twenty minutes later, hubby is doing an emergency diaper change on the side of the road in pitch black darkness. Our car lights illumate the dark night while diamonds from the sky, millions of them, sparkle on us.  He chucks the diaper in the road in time for us to climb back in the car before a car passes.  We forget it there, that diaper.  He frantically changes the baby in the blackness of the night, and we drive on.

We drive on.  We continue.  We reach that place we call home.  We turn on the fire, and warmth greets us.  Snuggled in our beds we sleep the rest of home. No matter where we go, the heart returns home.

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